


You Kill Me, Richie

by SawyerXT



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Ben and Bev are married, Bisexual Beverly Marsh, Bisexual Bill Denbrough, Dead Georgie Denbrough, F/M, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, Gay Richie Tozier, Henry Bowers is dead, Hypochondriac Eddie Kaspbrak, M/M, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Panromantic Ace Stanley, Reddie Marriage, Smut, Stan and his birds, Stanley Uris Has OCD, Straight Ben Hanscom, pennywise is dead, stanley uris has depression, straight mike hanlon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:00:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27783373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SawyerXT/pseuds/SawyerXT
Summary: Eddie was saved from the house on Neibolt by Richie and the rest of the Loser's quick thinking. After Eddie heals Rich decides that it's time to propose before something else happens.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 8
Kudos: 32





	1. Just Thinking About It

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, I hope you enjoy this fic! Let me know what you think or if you have any ideas.

“Sometimes you fucking kill me, Trashmouth.” Eddie shook his head and then looked the other way to hide a smile.

“You must like dying then because you don’t do anything to stop it.” Richie grinned and then pulled the second end of the hammock off its hook on the clubhouse wall. They were cleaning that place out and preparing to make it look nicer. 

It was a good thing that they had two clean freaks on their hands, otherwise a project this big would have been dragged out over a span of weeks, maybe even years. Stan and Eddie were the clean freaks in case you couldn’t tell.

Ben was fixing the support beams and walls, making sure every hole and crack was patched up properly, Eddie and Richie were taking some cloth furniture and vacuuming it, Bev was helping Bill with the floor, doing things like cleaning it, and putting in new floorboards, Mike was out buying supplies, and Stanley was removing old garbage and useless pieces of junk. 

Richie held up the slim nozzle of the vacuum and examined it.

“Dude, have you ever seen those satisfying videos online where they take one of these babies and suck the damn life right out of a pillow?” Richie asked Eddie, but Ben responded.

“Yep, I watch those satisfying videos while folding laundry.” He stopped hammering to pick up another board. “That’s why I requested we get one of those specifically.”

“You guys watch s-s-satisfying videos in your free time? I watch Stanley do a puzzle.” Bill stood up, stretched, and then stepped onto the finished portion of the floor. “Well, look at that. T-Th-This place CAN look nice.”

“Hey…watch what you say, Bill Denbrough. I was the one who built this place.” Ben smiled and then put the hammer down on a small table next to the couch, and he sat on the partially finished floor. It was nicely done, and with the way, things were going, was also probably going to be polished and complete by the end of the week. The saw dust smell filled the air and was slightly repulsive, considering the fact that the circus sometimes smells like that, but it was also comforting, knowing that the clubhouse they claimed as children were now going to be the clubhouse that they claimed as adults.

“Yeah, I know, b-b-but all I’m saying is that it always smelled like the sewers in here.” Bill sat down too.

“Because the wet dirt would leak in through the walls and the only reason the dirt was wet was because of the greywater.” Eddie picked up the vacuum hose and turned it over in his hands, almost like it held some sort of special powers. Richie pressed his foot against the on/off pedal and the machine roared to life. 

He held it down to the first couch cushion and pulled in a slow and straight line. All traces of dirt were gone.

“Holy shit! I thought that couch was naturally brown! Not grey!” Richie brushed his fingers over the spot that Eddie just cleaned, it felt smooth, soft, and extremely fucking comfortable. “Come on! Finish the rest, Doctor Scrubs, get in there, suck the furniture!” He put on his British accent just as he’d done years ago when Eddie was fixing up Ben’s wounds behind Keene’s Pharmacy.

‘Suck the wound! Get in there!’ The voice echoed. Rich mindlessly pushed his glasses up his nose and sat on a small child’s stool. The thoughts and voices made him feel sick.

“Hey, I got some stuff.” A figure appeared in the entrance of the clubhouse with a plastic Wal-Mart bag. It was from Mike. “But I need help getting it from my car and bringing it here.”

Ben stood up.

“I’ll help.” He pulled Beverly to her feet so she could continue with the floors and kissed her cheek. Stanley –who had been casually leaning against one of the pillars—offered his assistance as well.

“Thanks, guys. I think you’re gonna like—” Mike was cut off by a slightly frantic Richie.

“I’ll come too!” He shot to his feet which caused the stool to fall over and create a loud bang.

“D-D-Dude, we just put that fl—” Bill stuttered, but Rich didn’t have time to listen. He was already scrambling out of the wooden hatch and onto the surface.

..........................................................................

“Why were you in such a hurry? We’re not going to have an orgy in the woods.” Stan asked as he caught up to Richie.

“Why are you walking so fast? There is no boy better for you than Bill at the end of the rainbow.” Rich retorted.

“What makes you think I’m looking for a better man?” Stan replied smoothly while still glaring at the comedian out of the corner of his eye. Richie had an odd expression on his usually smug face. Like he wanted to ask something but just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Well, first off, I don’t think Bill is a good kisser. That mushmouth just sputters like an engine.” Richie put up one finger to show he had a whole list ahead of him, but Stan stopped him.

“If you want a fucking list, Trashmouth, I’ll give you a list. One: Don’t call my boyfriend a mushmouth, two: you have every right to shut the fuck up, and three—”

“Three being I have something to tell you guys and it’s extremely fucking important,” Richie said. 

“That is not what three was at all, actually, but go on.”

Ben and Mike hurried to catch up to see what the big deal was, and Richie swallowed heavily.

“I was planning on doing something… well, you guys know that I love Eddie… and I was planning on…” Stan sighed, and Richie glared.

“Just say it, Rich. We don’t judge.” Ben put a steady hand on his shoulder and gave a small smile. “Come on, Losers tell each other everything.”

“Yeah,” Mike agreed. 

Richie hesitated for another second, focusing on his feet, and the dirt path below before taking another deep inhale of the crisp air of the Barrens. It wasn’t particularly cold that day, but the air still felt like a fall day. The leaves, the ground, and the sky could all be smelled in one breath. It was beautiful. 

Kinda like Eddie.

“I was planning on asking Eddie to marry me.” The words came out rushed, panicked, and all in one exhale. The others didn’t say anything for a moment and then Ben spoke.

“You want to propose…today?”

“Yeah, is there a problem with that, Haystack Calhoun?” Rich snapped back, and Ben put his hands up in defense. 

“No! Not at all! I just wanted to know why you’re so worried!”

“What do you mean? Did you not hesitate to ask Beverly to marry you?” The expression on Richie’s face said it all. He was dumbfounded. 

Why wouldn’t you hesitate? Why wouldn’t you be scared to ask your one and only love to put up with your shenanigans for the rest of their life? Why wouldn’t you?

“No, actually. I didn’t.” Ben smiled at the thought of Beverly gushing at the sight of the diamond ring Ben had pulled out of his pocket. And what Ben had said was the truth. He hadn’t hesitated. It was all very spontaneous.

“Whatever, Benny. Your self-consciousness must have faded off with that fat you lost twenty-eight years ago.”

“Since when are you self-conscious, Tozier?” Mike asked. He stepped over a huge tree trunk and almost lost his balance, Richie laughed.

“I dunno, but YOU should be.” 

“Fuck you, man,” Mike muttered but, on the inside, he was smiling as wide as a jack-o-lantern. Richie was finally planning on proposing. All of the Losers had been waiting for as long as they could remember for a Reddie wedding. They’d even discuss it behind the two love bird’s backs.

“FUCK YOU!” Richie mimicked Mike and then the worry fell back across his face again. “I’ve always been self-conscious. When going out onto that stage for my act, I always panic at first, but then I get into the material and jokes, and I hear the laughs, then I’m fine.”

“Maybe that’s how your proposal will go,” Stan suggested. Richie glared at him and then spoke in a harsh tone that NONE of the Losers ever imagined coming out of the comedian’s mouth.

“So, you hope I go into that fucking clubhouse nervous as fuck, and then you hope he laughs?”

“No, Richie, I hope that you go in there nervous as fuck, and that after you’re done proposing, that you feel better because it went well.” Stanley rolled his eyes.

“Don’t act like it’s so easy. It’s not like you’d ever do that, femboy.”

“Are you calling me the more feminine figure of my relationship?” Stan gave Richie a look that said: ‘You are stupid, but I won’t embarrass you in front of your peers by saying so.’

“Yeah, I am.”

“The whole point of a boy-on-boy gay relationship is to have zero girls involved, Richard.”

“You know what I mean.”

Stan shook his head and then asked: “Then what may we help you with, Sir Tozier?”

“Help me with the proposal. When should I do it, how should I do it, and what do I do if he rejects me?”

The others were silent for a minute. All that could be heard was the sound of leaves crunching, sticks breaking, Mike, Ben, and Richie’s heavy footfalls, plus Stan’s softer ones, and birds in the trees. Stan was obviously looking around for them; listening for their calls and songs was easy in his eyes. It was his version of disassociating when it comes to one thing and associating with another species entirely.

Mike was thinking, hands in his pockets, and brows furrowed at the dirt below him. Ben… Ben was not thinking. He was pretending to think. He rubbed his chin like an old man when in reality, he had no clue what was happening or why he was supposed to look thoughtful.

Then after an agonizing pause in the conversation, Mike spoke up.

“What was Eddie’s favorite restaurant as a kid?”

“Well, he never went out to eat because his mom thought all food places were unsanitary. The only thing he ever got when it came to ‘out to eat’ kinda shit was ice cream from that really cool Ben and Jerry’s shop. But they tore that down.” Rich replied as he thought about his first “date”. Eddie had gotten ice cream for both him and Richie.  
That was it. 

But his eleven-year-old brain saw it as practically a make-out session.

“Yeah, that won’t work.” Ben smiled, “Why did they tear down that place anyway?”

Mike laughed at the irony of his next remark before he even said a word.

“Health code violations.” They all laughed along with Mike; the sheer irony was hilarious. “I’m not kidding though. They’d scoop ice cream with their hands. I’ve been a witness to that sight for sore eyes.”

“Where in Derry was Eddie’s favorite place to be when he wasn’t with us?” Ben asked.

Richie considered this carefully and said “The Tracker Brothers Truck Depot. You know, the baseball field right by it?”

“Ha! Wouldn’t it be great if you told your kids that you proposed behind a trucking company?” Stan faked laughter and Richie punched him in the arm.

“Okay then, where would you propose to Billiam, wiseass?”

“The Kissing Bridge,” Stan said simply and went back to his birds and spacing out. 

At that point, Richie knew he had it. 

The Kissing Bridge.


	2. We Were Just Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie takes Eddie to the Kissing Bridge to confess something.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Mike?” Richie exclaimed. The thing that Mike wanted them to come and get was a set of bunk beds. The boxes were huge and extremely heavy, there was no way that they were going to be able to carry them back by themselves.

“I agree. What kind of fucking idea was this, Mikey?” Stan asked as he rolled his eyes with a heavy sigh. Mike assessed the situation for a second, leaning against the hood of the car, and staring at the boxes sitting on the dirt, as he did.

“Stan, didn’t you take a wagon out of the clubhouse earlier?”

“Yeah, the old Choo-Choo flyer.” Stan nodded. “But how are we going to roll this shit through the Barrens on a wagon?”

“We could lay it down on the side that has the most surface area and roll it.” Mike tilted the box back up onto its bottom and examined it. “I mean, it’s not like they’re fully built bunk beds, we still have to put them together yet.” 

“You mean, I have to put them together.” Ben began to walk down the steep slope, into the Barrens, and back the way they came. 

“We’ll help, Ben. I’m not going to make you do it alone.” Mike let the box fall back down to the concrete, and Stanley—who was getting another bag of blankets and pillows out of the backseat—jumped a good foot in the air.

“My, God! Mike, you’re gonna break it!” Stan exclaimed.

“Don’t tell Eddie that happened. He might not use it if he knows it was damaged.”

.............................................................................

“Oh my god! These will fit perfectly!” Bev squealed when she saw the picture on the outside of the boxes. Mike smiled at her enthusiasm and invited her to help put it together; she agreed with gusto.

Stan told Richie as they were walking back to the clubhouse and dragging the red wagon with the huge box on top behind them, that he should go and propose to Eddie while they were constructing the bunk beds, but this made Richie even more nervous. He wasn’t ready. 

This was WAY too difficult.

Stan noticed Richie’s unnecessary hesitation and just held his head in his hand. “Do you want to spend the rest of your life with Wheezy, or not?”

“Of fucking course. Why else would I even CONSIDER proposing?” 

“Then just do it, Trashmouth.”

He began to walk away, but Richie—still unsure of his decision—called out after him.

“What happens if he says no?”

Stanley turned a full 180 around and gave Richie a blank look that called him an idiot without even twitching. Rich stared back in awe, knowing EXACTLY what Stan was going to say before he said it. Stan was just… so… unpredictable, yet predictable at the same time. He was complicated. No wonder Bill liked him so much. 

“Do what you always do. Start talking.”

........................................................................................

The sun seemed extremely bright—in their faces, you could say—as they rode in Richie’s fancy LA sportscar down Neibolt street. Eddie was shielding his eyes with his hands and constantly groaning, complaining, and bitching about not knowing where they were going. Rich didn’t mind though. He liked to hear Eddie whine.

“Look, dickwad. I’m not getting out of this car without knowing exactly where I’m going and if it’s safe. This is a shit move. You know that I’m easily spooked.” Eddie said frantically.

“Well, it’s obvious that you’re a scaredy-cat when you use words like ‘spooked’.” Richie laughed and pulled the car up to the wooden fence separating the kissing bridge from the steep slope that leads to the Barrens. Eddie fell silent and raised his eyebrows at the scene outside of the window. He saw very clearly marked in the light, slightly damp wood, two initials surrounded by many others, but everything around those letters didn’t matter.

Nothing else mattered, but what he saw.

Richie stepped out of the car and into the bright sunlight. A nervous tremor was building in his hands and body, his cock stiffening out of pure anxiety, and his stomach was tense and nauseating. 

‘This is Eddie. You can do it.’ He told himself.

His hand still managed to find the passenger's side door handle, and he pulled it open. Eddie was still staring at the two letters carved into the wood. Eddie stepped a foot onto the concrete himself and grabbed Richie’s shoulder to steady himself. Rich jumped at the touch.

Stan’s voice echoed in Richie’s head as he stared at the man he still remembered as a boy.

‘Do what you always do. Start talking.’ It said.

So—of course—that’s what Rich did.

“When we went our separate ways after that one summer, I felt… kinda sad. Not only because I was losing my friends, but because I had never told them how I really felt. I just… kinda made as many straight jokes as possible so I didn’t look suspicious.” Richie pulled his glasses off and began to clean them with his brightly coloured Hawaiian shirt. It was a tic. “The only person who ever saw right through me was Henry Bowers.”

Eddie looked up at Richie and then back down at the wooden fence. The same one that Ben had probably gotten attacked at when they were twelve.

Almost thirty years ago.

Rich let out a small chuckle and crouched down to see the letters better. The letters that his shaky hand had carved as a small boy; in love with his best friend and queer was who he was then.

“I remember flirting with Bowers’ cousin at the arcade one time—well trying to flirt— Conner, I think was the kid's name. Well, Bowers walked in and called me out in front of the entire place. He told me to ‘Get the fuck outta here, faggot’, so I listened. He knew, I knew, and I think the whole arcade did too. I was scared.”

Eddie sat down with his back against the wood and looked at Richie. He was crying. Actually, they both were. Eddie could feel the hot tears fill his eyes and begin to run down his face too. They were so…little…when they knew…everything.

When they knew they were different, when they knew that nothing lasts forever, when they knew how to avoid bullies… and when they knew how to kill a monster.  
Most kids are scared of the monster under their bed, but…

The Losers never got that chance. The chance to call their mother or father into their room because they heard something frightening coming from just below the squeaky bed springs, the chance to love a normal summer, and the chance to be a little kid who knew nothing.

Instead they new everything.

“Well, just after we all went our separate ways, I went here. I took one of my dad’s pocket knives and carved out our initials because that way it would most likely last longer than me. That way it would still be there when I died.”

Eddie watched Richie run his fingers over the cracked, decaying wood, careful not to get splinters. With a quick decision, he grabbed Richie’s hand and held it. Richie broke. He sat fully down on the pavement and put his head in his other hand trying not to remember when he thought It had killed Eddie. Trying not to remember how one of It’s legs impaled Eddie like a human shish kabob. Trying so hard…

But failing.

“I… I brought you here so… so I…” He sobbed again and Eddie pulled his arm. Rich rested his chin on Eddie’s shoulder and buried his face into Eddie’s neck, smelling the clean scent of soap and deodorant. 

“Spit it out, ‘Chee. Just tell me.” His voice broke.

“I brought you here…so I could ask you to marry me.”

Eddie was shocked, but he felt grateful. A river of emotion ran over him faster than the Kenduskeg. 

The wind blew a little causing the trees to shake and Richie to shiver. The clouds had moved over them now, so the sun was blocked making it impossible to keep your teeth from clattering together, but Eddie felt warm. Internally warm.

He wanted to be with Richie forever. And, yes, I know. There is no such thing as forever, but… there is such thing as an ‘as long as we live’.

“I’ll marry you, dickwad. As long as you stop calling me Eddie Spaghetti.” 

At that moment, Eddie sounded like he was twelve again. Slightly alarmed, Richie looked up, but it was still forty-year-old Eds. Same ol’ same ol’. 

"Never."

They both sobbed into each other and sat by the letters written in the wood:

R+E


	3. The Quarry's Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the clubhouse is finished, the Losers decide to take a break in the Quarry.

“Where did you guys run off too?” Bev asked as Richie and Eddie approached the broken furniture surrounding the clubhouse. Eddie almost burst into tears for a third time—on the way back he had begun to cry for no apparent reason at all except that he was happy—but he withheld it.

“Well, we were at the kissing bridge, and—”

Eddie burst into tears, despite his huge efforts to hold them back, and the rest of the Losers stared at him stunned. As a kid, this may have been an obvious thing that Eddie would have done, but nowadays he seemed so… refined. So well put together. Maybe it was just his years with Myra that did it, but… he just seemed…sophisticated. Constantly.

“I…proposed.” Richie lowered his voice and Beverly cried out in a happy kind of shock. She ran over and hugged both of the men in sheer glee; both of them hugged back.

“You’re getting married!?” She leaned back and got a good look at Eddie’s face. It was hard to tell if he was actually happy or not. He just solemnly nodded. “Eddie, what’s wrong?”

“I…I’m just…shocked, I guess. Richie really took me by surprise.”

The funny part was that Richie and Eddie had ended up in a sexual situation before they had exited the car. Eddie was spent, his ass was tender, and his hair was slightly ruffled from Richie’s large hands pulling it. Mentally and physically, he was tired. He just wanted to curl up in the new bunk beds and sleep rather then going back to the townhouse. He could also use a drink or two.

On the other hand, the material that the sports car’s backseats were made from was heavenly and very arousing.

“That’s a fair point, Eddie. Come on. You and Richie both. Come see what we did with the clubhouse.” Beverly put an arm around Eddie’s shoulders and brought him to the door. They all climbed down into the now clean smelling and well-built house they had inhabited as kids.

There was a nice brightness about the place. White fairy lights were strung up around the new walls and beams that held up the roof, providing a sense of comfort and belonging to the Losers. Every bit of furniture was about three shades lighter than it was before they cleaned it, it smelled better too. 

Eddie and Stan couldn’t believe they had let it get THAT dirty. Even as children. 

The hammock still hung up in the corner too, dull and weathered from long years underground. No more cans of Pepsi and cigarette butts littered the ground.

“Wow, it’s…beautiful,” Rich muttered under his breath. He didn’t care at the moment though.

He needed better sexual stamina, PLUS he had just cried his lungs out.

“You guys should sleep on your proposal. Just to let it sink in.” Stan smiled sarcastically at the two men. It took every fiber of his being not to point out the bit of pale cum drying on the front of Richie’s black t-shirt. He was pretty sure Bill noticed some more on the back because he choked on the water he was drinking as he looked up at Richie, who turned around.

“You…h-huh-have something on your sh-shirt, Richard.” Bill coughed with a smile. Eddie leaned back to look and sure enough, there was a large white stain. Eddie scowled and looked at Bill.

“You think that’s funny, don’t you? How about I make fun of you next time you screw Stanley? How would you like that?” 

“I’d tease you b-b-back about having married your m-muh-mother before marrying a comedian.” Bill retorted. Eddie opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it again unknowing what to say. Instead, he turned to Stanley.

“How about you, Mr. Sensitive?”

Stan snorted and said: “I don’t think I’d like to screw anyone at ALL, so I would have never gotten into that situation.”

“Yeah, well, what if you did?” Eddie’s face was growing a deep cherry red and Richie patted his shoulder comfortingly yet awkwardly.

“How about we head back to the townhouse for a quick change and then head to the quarry for a relaxing day on the rocks, huh? Just like how I like my margaritas.” Richie suggested and then put a foot on the first rung of the ladder leaning against the opening of the clubhouse. He began to climb with Mike following him.

“Fine,” Eddie muttered. Beverly attempted to stifle a giggle as she saw the smear on his back when he turned around but failed. Eddie’s middle finger shot up and he held it up over his shoulder which caused more laughter to erupt from Beverly’s mouth.

“You know what?” Eddie exclaimed. He took his foot off the ladder and turned around, walking behind Beverly, and pushing her forward. “If you’re gonna be a bitch, then go in front of me.”

“Alright, Edward.” Bev chuckled and began to climb.

.............................................................. 

Richie stripped out of most of his clothes, trying as hard as he could not to look at Eddie doing the same behind him as they changed next to the mirror, but it was almost irresistible. Eds had such a well-built body that it was hard to believe he was the same Eddie that had entered the Neibolt house a few years ago, but the pale, jagged, white scar was proof that Eddie was, in fact, Edward Kaspbrak.

“What are you staring at, asshole?” Eddie slid a baggy t-shirt on over his head and glared at his soon-to-be-husband.

“I was just trying to figure out why I love you.” Richie retorted.

Eddie gave him a curious glance out of the corner of his eyes but quickly went back to tying his shoe. “What do you love then?”

“How much you look exactly like a woman I used to know named Sonia Kaspbrak. She was a beauty you know.” Richie felt the sinking feeling of embarrassment as he made another joke so much like the ones he had as a kid, but a bit of giddiness rode his blood veins too. He sat down on Eddie’s foot that was resting on the blank bedspread and Eddie tried kicking him. That foot went nowhere. Rich was too heavy.

“Give me back my foot, would ya?” Eddie smirked and Richie shook his head.

“Nawp. I’se is got to bring it up to massa Dahmer. He’s is gonna WUV and EATS it for dinnah.” Richie fell into a voice but snapped back out of it when that same feeling of dread and shame washed over him. But Eddie smiled and tugged his foot back.

“Hey! Reddie!” Ben’s gravelly voice echoed from the hall, startling them both. “Hurry up! We’re leaving!”

“Reddie?” Eddie voiced in confusion. The door opened as Ben mumbled something about being decent.

“Yeah, Reddie. Beverly came up with it.” Ben replied. “It stands for Richie and Eddie. Like a… ship name.”

“Ship name, huh? Like…” Eddie seemed to enjoy this idea. It made him feel even more attached to his fiancé. 

“Like the Santa Maria? The Pinta? The Niña?” Rich smirked. Eddie’s love for Richie was tucked back into its overly large drawer at once.

“Aren’t you just naming the ships from Christopher Columbus’s voyage?” Eddie stared uncomprehendingly into Richie’s eyes, but the light from the lamp reflecting from his glasses gave him an eerie look and Eddie changed his gaze. Ben silently chuckled to himself as he left, reminding them to hurry up once again.

“I like how you knew that Edwardo.” Richie laughed too.

“Of course, I know that fucknuts! Christopher Columbus killed around 12 million to 15 million Natives!” Eddie stood up and speed-walked towards the door, but Richie’s long legs caught up with him easily.

“Well, I know how awful that is, but did you have to memorize the names of the ships? What are you, some sea captain by night?”

“You’re the one who named them all!”

They rounded the corner of the stairs to see Ben and Beverly holding hands and whispering to each other about something and laughing playfully, Stan was sitting on the receptionist's desk and Bill stood between his legs with a small smile as they talked about who knows what, and Mike was flirting with the sweet looking bartender with a heavy Louisiana style accent.

It was a sweet scene, no doubt. So of course, Richie broke the sweet tang in the air with a loud booming voice.

“Hey Losers! Were you looking for Reddie?”

..............................................................

The sun was starting to go down by the time they reached the cliff edge. What rays that came from the sun were no longer gold, but more of a subtle orange, the trees were almost glowing as they reflected that tone, and the water below was indescribably bright. It seemed like the whole LAKE was one big mirror and the Losers had to shield their eyes.  
“Well? Should we keep the tradition alive? Beverly jumps first?” Stan asked climbing over the useless green bar that was put up as a feeble attempt to keep people away. No one said anything, so Bev pulled off her blouse and let it fall to the ground, her shorts came second. The rest of them stripped to their underwear and followed Stan’s lead over the barrier, Mike punching the “NO DIVING UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES” sign while doing so.

No one counted. No one spoke. It was like a ritual.

Beverly took a leap and plummeted over the edge, legs together, her body forming a straight line, and with barely a splash, she finished her pencil dive into the warm, sunlit water below. 

Silence still wrapped around the Losers like a blanket, warming their cool bare skin. They waited. And waited for Beverly to resurface, and when she did, she screamed in joy and adrenalin.

One by one, they followed her. Not doing a nearly as perfect dive of course, but at least trying to follow suit. Eventually, the last two were Richie and Eddie.

“Hey, Eds,” Richie held out his hand and Eddie stared blankly at it before taking it with a warm smile. “On the count of three…”

“One,” Eddie began.

“Two,” Richie whispered.

“Three.”

They both took a jump. Eddie made sure he held onto his (loser's) lover's hand as they plummeted to the water below. A rush of air was blocking out all sound from their ears but just fainty—and I mean ever so faintly—they could hear their 

(family)

friends below them, cheering and laughing.

With a sudden splash, they hit the bottom of the quarry. Eddie felt the adrenaline wear off and the water engulfed him, still holding onto Richie’s hand.  
Both their heads broke the surface at the same time. Mike playfully greeted them with more water in a giant wave. Richie was sputtering and coughing, attempting to get the water out of his mouth and lungs, so Bill pounded him on the back.

“Did you f-forget to close your m-muh-mouth, Richard?”

“Yeah. Sometimes I forget to swallow when Eddie is cumming too. Maybe I need to work on those things.” He wiped the water out of his eyes and opened them to a sweet sight. Stan had his arms around Bill’s waist and Bill was smiling. Mike, Ben, and Beverly seemed to be in some type of competition to see what they could find at the bottom of the lake.

“Shut up, Dicky.” Eddie attempted to be angry, but he just couldn’t hold it. The laughter that erupted from his mouth echoed off the quarry walls in merry gales and Richie tackled him.

“You think that’s funny? Why don’t you swallow some water, Spaghetti?” Eddie’s head went under along with Richie’s arms and torso. Eddie didn’t struggle. Instead he complied, taking the time to open his eyes while he was under.

There was a small turtle.

His mouth opened in a small gasp, but he had forgotten that he wouldn’t be able to breathe without choking down a gulp of lake water. He coughed and pulled away from Richie, breaking the surface while doing so.

Ben—who was now nearby—pulled the struggling man up.

“Are you okay, Eddie?” Beverly asked. Eddie nodded and let out a heavy and slightly bubbly cough. A small stream of water spilled out of his mouth and over his lips. It was dirty and tasted like fish and grass.

He nodded, still choking out the liquid. When he felt okay again, he looked around at the Losers.

“I hope I don’t get cholera.”

That simple, classically Eddie statement was followed by more laughter.

..........................................................

The bunk beds were comfy. Very. Old mattresses had been picked up from the local Big Lots, blankets were new from Wal-Mart, pillows from the same place, and the frames were sturdy and well built. It’s much easier to have an architect on your side when building.

“Anyone have a bedtime story?” Stan asked.

“I don’t know, Staniel. Do you have any Bible verses at the moment?” Rich replied. Stan’s muffled chuckle floated across the room and Richie smiled into Eddie’s stomach. He was snuggling right up next to the scar that It had left on his torso after the final battle. It comforted him.

“We could tell a made-up story,” Beverly suggested. The smile she wore was almost present in her voice.

“Like what? Princesses in a tower?” Ben asked.

“I mean, maybe something that we never told each other about that happened in those 27 years.”

“Ooh. Deep dark secrets. I got one.” Mike chimed in, and even though that wasn’t what Beverly meant, she let him continue.

“I lived in a library.” 

There was a long pause before the snickers started. Mike knew what was coming, and he quite literally had asked for it.

“And each and every one of us lived in a mansion, Mikey.” Richie let out a high-pitched giggle. “But I think you knew that!”

Mike rolled his eyes in the dark. “Come on. It’s late.”

Closing their eyes was easy. They were tired. Sleeping without nightmares? Well, they’d find out.


	4. Seven Months After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Eddie finally do what they've dreamed of since they were kids.

Seven Months Later

Eddie stood silent in the cabin. Whispers were everywhere as what few people he knew walked past unknowing that the second (and more feminine) groom was inside. With a peek out the window, he saw his ex-wife (‘Why the hell would SHE show up?’ Eddie though), Richie’s mother (his father had passed away around eight years prior), the Losers (besides Richie, who was getting ready, and Stan, who was helping), one of Mike’s librarian friends (female, but married), Beverly’s newer friend Claire, and Richie’s friends (which Eddie called his “team”, they were the ones who helped him with his stand-up shows).

The pre-wedding jitters were finally getting to him. He had told Ben around half an hour before about how calm he felt, to which Ben replied: “Don’t jinx it.”

Edward “Eddie” Kaspbrak had probably just jinxed his own wedding.

Great.

As he paced around the wooden floor, he thought about the day Rich had proposed. The crying, the sex-fest in the backseat, for some reason the turtle at the quarry that had almost caused him to drown, and the nightmares that had ensued…

.......................................................................................................................

7 Months Prior

He was shivering in his sleep, but Richie wasn’t sure if it was because he was cold, or if it was because he was having a bad dream. Rich decided not to wake him.  
But Eddie was in fact shaking out of fear. Fear of It. Fear of It’s return. The return that It would make to finish him off, stab him again, maybe even kill Richard Tozier. The only person he has REALLY loved since he was ten. Not even his mother was as high up on a pedestal as Richie was.

Could you consider Eddie a simp? 

Kind of.

The reason why Eddie was shaking wasn’t because he didn’t want to die, but it was because he was worried if It killed Richie, then he would kill himself. Because the Losers were so close, Stan would be the next to go. Then Bill.

Then Beverly…

Then Ben…

Then Mike.

Eddie couldn’t start that. No. Richie can’t die. It was impossible.

These fears echoed through his mind as he quivered in the clubhouse bunk bed next to his fiancé. 

Pennywise was huge. It’s spider legs crashing down around them, chunks of the cavernous ceiling falling around them from the vibrations that shot through the walls. Each of them narrowly avoiding the giant pieces of rock and giant legs.

It shook it’s head, switching from Alvin Marsh’s face, to the leper, to the mummy, then back to the clown face. It’s classic one.

“HERE’S PENNY!” It shrieked and held up one of It's dagger-like legs, prepared to strike. The Losers were scattered, but Richie had a firm hold on Eddie’s upper arm.

“Eddie, don’t run. Hide. I’ll distract It.” Richie called over the sound of the creature’s roaring. Eddie’s expression changed to one of surprise and he looked at Richie. 

“No, Rich! Why?! It’ll kill you!”

“I’ll most likely get caught in the deadlights. Just go.” Richie gave Eddie a gentle kiss on the cheek then pushed him slightly. Eddie stood dumbfound as Richie screamed: “HEY SLOPPY BITCH!”

It’s head twisted sharply, and it turned It’s huge body to face the yeller. Richie gave Eddie another push. That final shove got Eddie’s feet working, and he ran to hide in a thin cave. Breathing heavily, he peeked out from behind the stone just in time.

A large leg writhed through the air and impaled Richie’s stomach like a sword in an old movie. The cavern went eerily quiet and a scream—presumably, Beverly’s—pierced the air.  
It wasn’t Bev’s, however…

“Eddie! Wake up!” He felt a shake as someone attempted to rouse him from his sleep. Eddie’s eyes flew open and he jerked upright, banging his head on the underside of the bed above him. He hardly noticed as he scrambled for his aspirator and Richie both. 

His grip landed on a handful of blanket right over someone’s leg and his hands frantically searched for Richie’s bare skin. Richie grabbed his hands and put them over his shoulders, Eddie swung his legs over the man’s lap. 

Someone flipped the switched on the string of lights that were strung around the room and someone else pushed an inhaler into his hand. Eddie triggered it into his mouth.  
“Hey, Eds. Are you okay?” Richie asked.

“Yeah. Yeah. I’m fine, Rich.” Eddie breathed into the neck of the shirtless man he clung to as his panic subsided. Everyone was here. Stan, Bill, Ben, Mike, Bev, and Richie. Pennywise was not. 

“Bad dream?” Mike asked. And Eddie sighed out the word ‘yes’. “Do you need anything?” Eddie sighed ‘no’.

Richie leaned back against the new wooden walls and planted a long kiss on Eddie’s cheek.  
..........................................................................................................................  
His leg was bouncing in the chair even though Stan instructed him to hold still. He just couldn’t help it. He was about to show the whole fucking world that he “Trashmouth” Tozier, was marrying a man. His “team” as Eddie called them, had no idea, his fans didn’t know, and neither did everyone else who didn’t give a flying fuck about the junky comedian that’s been on The Late Show with Seth Myers three times and The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon once.

“What did I tell you? Hold still. Your whole body is shaking when you do that.” Stan growled, still obsessing over the man’s messy dark locks.

“Stan the Man. My hair. Is fine.” Richie breathed and Stan’s nimble fingers paused. He leaned over and looked at Richie with his dark brown eyes. Rich avoided eye contact.  
“Trashy, look at me.” Stan grabbed his chin and turned his head. Richie complied. “You really shouldn’t be nervous. Eddie loves you. And if someone laughs at the fact that this is a male on male relationship, then laugh at their laugh.”

“For God’s sake Stanley. Just say the word ‘gay’.” Richie teased. Stan scowled teasingly and tugged at a piece of Richie’s hair. Rich grabbed for Stan’s hand, but he was to slow. Stan pulled away too fast. A giddy yet nervous burst of laughter spilled out of Richie’s mouth and it caused a wave of warmth to shoot through Stan’s system. He was okay. Richie, I mean. Stan was fine too.

“Five minutes, Richie.” Beverly poked her head into the tent and spoke softly. “How are things going?”

“He’s Reddie,” Stan smirked. Bev could almost hear the ship name in that sentence rather than the proper word and she knew that they were going to be okay. Reddie was going to last for a LONG time.

“When’s Stenbrough going to finalize and put a ring on it?” Richie stood up and looked at Stan. A moment of confusion flashed over his face, but then he got it. Stan Denbrough. Stenbrough.

“Oh. I’ve been dropping clues…” 

“You can’t just be passive-aggressive like that, Stan. Bill’s one of those dumb men that cum in thirty seconds and don’t let you finish. That type of man doesn’t understand passive hints.” Bev smirked. She knew that Stan would protest, and he did.

“Bill isn’t l—”

“I know Stan. I was just trying to get under your skin. About three minutes and your headed up to the front, Rich. Eddie should be walking down the aisle a few after that. Stan, come on. Let’s go.” Bev smiled sweetly and Stan walked out of the tent flap she was holding open, then she left too.

The silence filled the space around him, and he sat down on the chair again. Anxiety building more and more.

‘You’re on in two, Rich.’

‘Okay, I get it, trash the Trashmouth!’

‘GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE, FAGGOT!’

‘Do what you always do. Start talking.’

‘It doesn’t smell like caca to me senor.’

He covered his ears. But the sounds just wouldn’t stop. 

Two minutes went by feeling like five seconds instead. He did nothing to stop the nervous tremor, instead, he just walked out of the tent of grey fabric with a smile, playing the words, ‘I’ll marry you, dickwad. As long as you stop calling me Eddie Spaghetti’ over and over and over again.

‘…As long as you stop calling me Eddie Spaghetti.’  
...............................................................................................................  
Another nervous glance out the window. Eddie searched for his almost-husband. He saw Ben. He saw Bev. He saw Bill. Stan. Mike. His ex. Rich’s crew.

Then another look. Nothing new.

Then a third.

Finally, by a fourth glance, he saw Richie. His suit was ironed perfectly, hair combed, hands shaky. 

Gorgeous.

He was 

(ready)

Reddie.  
............................................................................................................  
The looks on their faces made Richie want to burst out laughing. His team was gaping at the slightly short, well-groomed man, walking down the dirt path toward their favourite comedian. My God, he was going to have a lot to explain later.

‘Oh, yeah. I’m gay. Sorry, I forgot to tell you. I’ve just been kinda busy planning my wedding with the man I’ve loved since I was ten years old. But at least I had time to give you an invitation.’ He could hear himself saying to his best “non-loser” friend who was also his agent. His name was Caleb. Caleb Willison.

Eddie was staring at his feet, careful not to trip on any stray sticks. It was absolutely adorable. 

Finally, Eddie stood in front of Richie. He looked up and then tried not to smile as Richie wiggled his eyebrows comically. The preacher began to speak, but Eddie didn’t care. He just waited for the ‘I do’s’.

Suddenly, Richie stopped the man mid-sentence. Both Eddie and the preacher stared as Richie calmly pulled a piece of paper out of his breast pocket.

“I don’t want these stupid Christian and religious vows. It sucks ass, especially when you know a Jew is listening.” Richie motioned to Stan and a few laughed, assuming that this was another one of the comedian’s jokes, but it wasn’t. He was being serious.

Richie cleared his throat and read:

“When I was five years old, I kissed a boy. It’s funny, yeah, but it’s true.

“I was on the playground in this same town of Derry and a kid pointed to his mouth and told me he was eating mango gummies from the Hmong store his mom owned. I said I wanted one, but he didn’t have any left. His mama took the rest away because he stole them. I felt a little sad and he told me he could taste the one in his mouth if I wanted. I agreed.

“We didn’t hesitate at all. I pressed my small mouth to his and stuck out my tongue to taste the mango.”

A few chuckles came from the Losers, but most people stayed silent; confused.

“It was good. Not just the mango, but the kid's mouth too. My mom’s scream caused most of the mothers next to her to jump and she dragged me off the playground in anger.  
“I began to cry because I had no idea what I did wrong and she ranted how ‘sinful’ I was, and how ‘disgusted’ she was with me. I cried more. I still wanted to play.

“I wanted to go down the slide with that boy, I wanted to go on the swings with him, to have a race. He was a cute boy. Even my five-year-old brain said so. But instead, I was being yelled at by my mother for reasons I couldn’t explain. 

“From that day on I played it as ‘normal’ as I could. As straight as possible. That was until I was ten.”

Richie was surprisingly dry-eyed, unlike the Losers. He seemed too nostalgic for that. To lost in the memories to feel.

“I met a kid named Eddie. He was new to our school and had been homeschooled until that age. I remember he had a little train on his shirt, and I laughed to myself thinking that that was babyish, but it was SO cute at the same time. I felt shy for the first time in my life, and Lord hallelujah, if my friends knew about my silence in that class, they would have dropped dead from shock.”

Bill nodded and smiled from Eddie’s side of the groom’s “non-gender specified friends” was the joking term, because they weren’t all men.

“Stan became friends with Eddie before me and then we were introduced. I tried to play it cool. It was surprisingly easy. Eds just…made me feel even more like a Trashmouth. I knew that he enjoyed my jokes and nicknames no matter how loud he told me to shut up.

“He was eating a Jolly Rancher in ELA the week after we met. I of course asked for one and he said he didn’t have anymore. I was instantly taken back to the Asian kid incident and asked for the one he had in his mouth.

“But he laughed it off, and I knew, I was going to have to try a lot harder for a kiss now that I was ten.

“I never got that kiss until I was thirty-eight. Right when I thought he was about to die.”

Eddie smiled, true and genuine. 

“Now here I am, standing in front of this boy, my best friends, and all of the other people I invited who had no idea I was gay until they watched a man walk towards me down the aisle.” Richie finished, but added an afterthought: “Oh, Eddie’s ex-wife is here too.”

Eddie face-palmed and everyone looked around. Myra’s face went strawberry red.

“Wave to the audience, Myra!” Richie cheered and pointed. Myra got up and stormed of weeping, and honestly, everyone still seemed confused.  
“I know that you guys may reject me for this, but I made my own vows to my very special—possibly Special Ed—lover.” Richie turned back to Eddie who looked teary-eyed and star-struck, planted a kiss on his lips and whispered:

“You’re stuck with me now, Loser.”

As the people in the rows of pews lined up in the woods clapped, Eddie and Richie kissed again. This time more thoroughly. Pressing their tongues together in sheer happiness, squeezing each other’s hands, and feeling like kids again.

“My god, what have I done?” Eddie whispered back in reply to Richie’s comment. “I’m stuck with a Trashmouth.”


End file.
